The water is wide with the apprehension of deep breath. Loon ululates across the spaces in between. Water has gathered for gathering, chaste in cherish. We almost know what we do with our shit. The immense possible life still scores rock in its register. Vocabulary contains nearness. The loon cannot be forgotten, tremolo duet. Bespeak the elegance of this mapped portion, as slow and stern as rain. Boats assert in cold transit and, likewise, the last gasp. Sunrise and sunset both stretch on the water, making place a moment. Repeat the pasture of loon, undivided.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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